


Kobold Sandwich

by Jededed



Category: Feral (Wildworks Video Game)
Genre: (just a little), Blood Ritual, Blood and Gore, Brody Worship, Character Death, Crack, Dark Humor, Guns, Head Injury, Mild Language, Minor Eye Injuries, Multi, Polyamory, Sacrifices, Sarcasm, Violence, andrukino, bruka, implied animal death, just to be clear this fic is NOT vegan, lots of bug-eating, please don’t take it seriously, simping, this fic is a joke btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26035705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jededed/pseuds/Jededed
Summary: I am on a mission to write the most cursed Fer.al fic in existence.
Relationships: Brody (Feral)/Luka (Feral), Brody (Feral)/Reader, Luka (Feral)/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	1. The Case of the Missing Twiggle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m probably gonna regret this but what’s the point of living if not to embarrass myself.

_Woosh_

You spawn in City Fera out of thin air and are immediately crushed half to death by dozens of other players. Tough luck, you thought you’d have the place to yourself for once in your life, but clearly the WildWorks gods have decided against you spending some well-deserved alone time with your NPC sweethearts. Bummer.

As always, Aleta jumps up in the air and waves her arms at you like one of those wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube men (wtf wikipedia) but really it’s just her way of saying hello. You greet her in return despite being inwardly pissed because this is the 328th time she has welcomed you to the city and you are tired of dealing with the exact same wall of text she throws at you every single day. Can’t someone write up some new dialogue for her once in a while?

You don’t even take one step forward before seeing a flash of red fur charging at you at the speed of sound. It’s Brody! Except it’s not, because bro has brorns instead of bro’s usual majestic blue headband. A silent tear runs down your cheek as you remember the beautiful head garment you might never see again. Brody has now been reduced to an advertisement.

“Hello there, what a brotastic day I’m having!” Brody blurts out through rows of seemingly uncomfortable, perfectly triangular-shaped teeth. You realize with a jolt of horror this means bro has no lips, but you brush it off as the handsome ketchup-colored creature continues, “It would be even better if I weren’t here to deliver a brotastrophic message!”

You tip your head to the side. Because of their huge smiling mouths, cheerful tone, and blank, dead eyes, you can never tell what emotional state kobolds are in, but somehow you can’t resist simping for all of them. Also you are 85% sure you could come up with better puns than Brody.

“Oh?”

“I’ve got urgent news coming straight from Shattered Bay! But they told me you should check for broself. Let us go brovestigate!”

You shake your head. You are so done with NPCs asking you to run their errands for them, and you believe it is finally time to put a stop to it. But still, the Brody imposter persists as much as bro’s AI permits it.

“Come on, champ! It’ll be fun!”

From what Brody had said just earlier, you do not believe bro’s words. But then you see bro slowly approaching the edge of the floating island, and you gasp at bro’s last words before bro launches broself off the face of the earth in a last attempt to convince you.

“Oh, well. #BROLO!”

The fake Brody disappears into the mist. You do not bother peeking over the edge, but yet you feel immense guilt. Were you the cause of Brody’s sacrifice? Yes, those flaming horns were horrendous, but that wasn’t enough of a reason to drive Brody to… to this, wasn’t it? You must now pay your respects for bro, no matter what.

You head back to the portal that brought you here in the first place while trying to appear as remorseful as possible, but you drop the act since it makes you look like an edgy teenager. The portal isn’t very far, and on the way you come across a couple of birds perched up on the roof of a nearby house. One has raven-black feathers with narrowed eyes watching you from afar, while the other is snuggled against it, bright feathers puffed up against the chilly night breeze. They notice you stalking them with interest, ya damn stalker, and fly away. One of them lets a pack of cards drop from the sky and bonk onto your head, knocking you out on the spot.

…

You wake up in the middle of the street, exactly like you were before. No one has come to help you. How rude.

Finally, you reach the portal, where pretty much everyone seems unconcerned by Brody’s disappearance. You assume they’re all just a bunch of directionless fake fans before teleporting to your sanctuary and rushing downstairs, to the basement where you keep your Brody shrine. It brings you comfort to step inside, surrounded by various pictures of Brody, topless. Except bro has always been topless, so stop thinking you’re better than everyone else. The walls are Brody, the floor is Brody, the ceiling is Brody. It’s all one could ever wish for. There’s even a fancy toilet with a portrait of Brody hanging over it, but what do you even have that for? You’re an animal, you don’t need that kind of stuff in your house. You don’t need a house. You just want to make yourself feel like you haven’t wasted all your lunch money on the season pass.

You’re thankful no one has discovered your hidden basement yet. Especially Brody… bro won’t be finding your shrine any time soon. Or any time ever. But you’re not allowed to feel at peace until weewee lets you lock your sanctuary. Other players cannot be kept at bay until then (before you ask this was written prior to the update)

You take a step forward, towards the infamous Brody Lisa painting you’ve hanged up on the back wall. You stole it from the City Fera Museum not long ago, and you treasure it like a child, if only you actually cared about the illegitimate child you had with Brody’s mom six years ago. You screech and salute to the painting to honor your bae’s memory. It is now time to finish what bro started.

You poof in the center of shat bay, standing tall, and look around. There is no one here, but you hear a small, high-pitched voice coming from… beneath you? You look down to see a twiggle screaming at you. It seems quite disconcerted.

“You’ve got to follow me to Twigla’s Workshop! There’s been a murder!”

You scoff. Of course. It’s always a murder, but usually not in this kind of place. The twiggle looks at you like you lack a sense of empathy, and maybe you do. You should shut up.

You spot Merrick a few meters away, and like the absolute jerk you are, you eye him disapprovingly because he’s just a dollar store Brody. At the workshop, everything seems normal. You even bound toward Twigla for your daily hug before remembering why you’re here. You truly are an apathetic monster.

You notice something lying on the floor from the corner of your eye. You approach it while the twiggles shake with fear and wonder why because it’s only a dry half-munched on twig and nothing else.

“Is this the crime scene?” you ask, confused. The twiggles nod in unison. You have almost nothing to work with, apparently.

“Oookay,” you start, “this has to lead somewhere. Any witnesses?”

Suddenly, you hear an explosion. Someone’s kicked the front door open! Wooden splinters fly across the room and everyone groans as they get some caught in their eyes. This day really is turning to shit.

Once you regain full use of your vision 45 minutes later you notice who the intruder is. It’s that stinking bearded lizard, Striker, who you are a regular client of and are almost sure he obtains his overpriced action figures from illegal pirates. He’s just been standing there the whole time, suspiciously, waiting for you to recover from your temporary visual impairment like he’s about to scam you yet again. You take out a knife, one you bought from him, funnily enough, and point it in his direction.

“You are under arrest for the murder of npcs_twiggle_11!” you screech, completely ignoring the fact you yourself murdered Broby only an hour ago.

The lizard throws his hands up in the air like he just don’t care. It’s at that moment that you see it in his eyes. He truly fears for his life. He doesn’t know how much of a chicken you are and how you only wanted this knife for the looks and not for the stabby-stab-stab, but you use it to your advantage nonetheless.

“If you admit to what you’ve done I won’t be forced to drive this into your face,” you say as threateningly as possible, which is next to not at all. Luckily Striker isn’t much smarter than you.

“Alright, alright, I will…” he says. “I saw the culprit!”

“… What?”

“Yes, yes, with my own two eyes!”

You release a sigh. Of course this isn’t going to be as easy as accusing the first person you see, and with little to no evidence. If only this quest allowed you to be more like real-life police.

“Who did it, then?”

“It was, huh, that red kobold guy, y’know? With the silly face?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“The one with the illustrious facial hair!”

“Konrad?”

“Y—Yeah! That’s it, that’s the one! That sneaky bastard!”

Of course! Konrad does have wonderful whiskers indeed, but does he also have murderous tendencies? An adventurer like him could be anywhere by now…

Regretfully, you leave Striker and most importantly his quality theme™ behind. You decide to investigate Mugmyre Marsh first because it fits your aesthetic the best. Sure, the water is a piss yellow color and the air smells of baby vomit, but who wears a dark arts sorceress hat in Lakeroot Valley? Or a vineyard shawl in Blood Tundra? Mm-mm, that’s a fashion faux pas. You’ve got to stay in style, murder or not.

You spot Sporesville in the distance and hunger for those crop farms. You don’t have a taste for said crops, of course, but the invasive rush locusts do look incredibly crunchy. You leap over the fence like the not-so-graceful long-legged whatever thing you are and start scronching on those little buggers.

“Hey, thanks for getting rid of those!” you hear coming from behind you. You turn around to find Julian staring at you awkwardly while your mouth is still full of twitching green locusts. You let your jaw drop in surprise, leaving the bugs to hop away, which reminds you of how stupid you are. Cool, now there’s no chance of you getting paid.

“Err, you’re welcome?” But he’s already gone and you’ve made a fool of yourself. A fool who snacks in the middle of a murder investigation. Wow, you almost forgot about that. Better get going.

You roam around the village for clues, but alas, nothing comes up. Apart from the local pickens, that is, and you wonder when picken nuggies will become a thing, but you don’t want to try anything while Julian’s still in his current state of mind. You only have 69 lockpicks, anyway.

When you believe all hope is lost and, even worse, you won’t receive the new quest reward, something on the ground catches your attention. You squint your eyes to see… a strand of Tostitos hot salsa–coloured hair… and an ichimegasa hat. The killer must have passed through here—and is on his way to Lakeroot Valley!

You immediately appear at Arrowpeak Village, ready to throw hands, only to see Mikelle staring at you with a bewildered look on her face. You realize it’s because you spawned right on top of her girlfriend Gladiolus, who is now sprawled out with her face flat on the ground. Just kidding, all kobolds have flat faces. They’re like pugs. They can’t breathe.

“Wow, looks like all I do is screw things up today, eh?” you say like a Canadian, but rude. You’re not even sorry. You should be ashamed. “Have you seen a suave red fellow lately?”

Gladiolus pushes herself up using only one arm, which makes Mikelle swoon, and answers, “Mayhaps.”

“Yes, we invited him over just this morning!” exclaims Mikelle, earning a hard stare from Gladiolus, “Konrad, that is.”

“And why, exactly?”

“Well, to be honest, we needed relationship advice.”

You can’t help yourself from calmly asking, “WHY WOULD YOU GO TO KONRAD OF ALL PEOPLE FOR DATING ADVICE???”

“Because of his glorious facial hair.”

“Ah, yes. Is he still here?”

“Oh, no. He left the second he understood why we wanted to talk. Said he’s not some couples therapist. I believe he’s gone to the tundra again.”

“Then that means I must go! Farewell!” Before you turn back you see Mikelle and Gladiolus kiss on their nonexistent lips. “That’s so gay,” you think to yourself.

At Blood Tundra, the first thing you do is head to Luka’s house. You knock on the door despite your blatant quadrupededness but no one comes to invite you inside. That’s when you notice the unlocked door, so like a lucky robber, you step inside. You see Luka with their back turned towards you, chopping up a roll of what you ~~hope~~ think is baloney with their sword. What a strange sight. You take a step forward, accidentally causing the wooden floorboards to creak under your weight and alerting Luka of your presence. They turn around, smiling while brandishing the baloney slicer in your face.

“Well, hello there. If you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Luka, the leader of our happy flock. I’m sure you’re just pas—”

“I KNOW AND I LOVE YOU, LUKA, BUT COULD YOU GET THE SWORD AWAY FROM MY EYEBALL, PLEASE AND THANK YOU.”

“Oh this? It’s not a sword. It’s my kitchen knife.”

“THAT’S A PRETTY ODD WAY OF PRONOUNCING ‘SWORD’.”

“Alright, sorry. What brings you to our wonderful little tundra?”

“I am searching for… a murderer,” you declare as dramatically as possible.

“My, my, my, you’re in luck ‘cause we’ve got plenty of those! Which one are you looking for?”

Welp, _that_ sounds unsettling. Better ignore the first part.

“A gentleman under the name of Konrad. Have you seen him around here, by any chance?”

“Hmmm, not recently, no. He came by the village many weeks ago, saying he was on an ‘adventure’. I was about to sacrifice him to the blood tree, but then he disappeared from my sight before I got the chance!”

“Thank you very much for your input. Now, if you don’t mind, I must go on an ‘adventure’ myself!” And with that, you sprint out the door, half-scared you’ll end up as Luka’s next victim.

You search the land far and wide with no sign of the suspect. Viola is killing people for their teeth, Vesta is killing people for the tree, and Luka is rising said people from the dead. Business as usual. But then you stumble upon a clearing, specks of strawberry jam splattered on the snow-white snow, and the most marvelous creature you’ve ever seen blesses your field of vision.

“Bluddy.”

Or, as some say, the legendary hovering ketchup chip.

You approach the blooderfly cautiously. It looks delicious. You’re about to nom it out of the air when you hear the most dreadful sound one could hear.

“Take a step further and I’ll be forced to pop off your kneecaps and eat them for breakfast.”

Darn it, it’s that irritating trash panda child, Vann or whatever, you still don’t know how to pronounce any of the kidbolds’ names. You do as he says because you’re fond of your kneecaps. Or elbowcaps. Oh god.

“That’s right,” he says. “Now put your paws up in the air where I can see ‘em.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t—the controls won’t let me.”

“DO AS I SAY!”

“I CAN’T! I PHYSICALLY CANNOT DO THAT!”

You see him charging at you like Brody did earlier. If you don’t escape now, he’ll break the sonic barrier before you’re far enough, and then who knows what state your knees will be in? You can’t take that chance. You run as fast as you’ve ever ran.

“I think I’ve lost him,” you think after many hours of running. You hope you’ll never end up face to face with that trigger happy kid ever again. Curiously enough, you realize that, despite all the time that’s passed, you’ve barely gotten anywhere. The blood tree stands in front of you, its branches twisting like your legs would have if you hadn’t fled earlier. The creepy tree-worshipping owl lady isn’t anywhere to be seen, but you can hear grumbling coming from the hollow in the trunk. Well, that’s what you call it. You doubt the “tree” is actually a legit tree made of tree wood and tree bark.

You tiptoe toward the crack at the foot of the tree. I mean, you’re always tiptoeing. You are, in fact, a digitigrade. The sight you see makes you want to retch. There is Konrad, sitting in the shadows of the tree’s insides and performing what seems to be a satanic ritual. So that’s what he’s been up to.

“You!”

The man himself flips around to face you, beautiful blank dead eyes wide. Yet somehow you see a sparkle in those ghastly depths. His arms may be covered elbow-high in fresh blood, painting his fur red, well, redder, but he can’t be the murderer. He’s the kind of guy to spell “rogue” like “rouge”, innocent yet insufferable. You figure there is no way he can be responsible for this morning’s crime.

“Huh, sorry for interrupting. Carry on,” you tell him. All you’ve achieved is embarrassing yourself.

You ponder about your existence. Once you’re done with that, you ponder about the murder. All evidence points to Konrad, but it can’t be him. Who could have done it? It’s then that you see it. Something that makes you gasp. The one thing you’ve been longing for all this time. Brody’s sweatband.

How did it end up here, all alone in a snow bank? There can only be one answer.

You follow the scent trail all throughout the tundra. It may be difficult to detect the smell through the blizzard, but luckily for you Brody had a particularly sweaty forehead. It leads you all the way to the far end of the tundra, where the snowfall is so thicc it reminds you of that one time you went on a trip to Quebec in the middle of January. You did not have a good time.

You can barely see three feet in front of you. A narrow cave sits there, where the stench of brodily fluids is at its peak. You enter.

What you see makes you gasp for the 12th time that day and cry for the 47th time that day. You’ve gotta pretend you feel emotions, sometimes. They say you never know how much you love someone until you lose them, but no one talks about the joy you feel when that someone is brought back from the dead. As far as you know, you’re the only one who’s ever experienced that. And also maybe Luka.

The glossy blood orange fur and the bulging swole abs are unmistakeable. Brody is still topless, thank god, with bro’s hair disheveled from the lack of headband. Bro’s just sitting there, staring at you with a twiggle leg poking out of bro’s mouth, but you couldn’t care less about that. You quite literally jump on Brody to give bro a hug.

“BROBY! I missed you so much, I thought I’d lost you!” you cry out.

“What do you mean, champ?” bro asks.

You shake your head. “I—I thought I killed you… well, the you with the horns.”

“Oh. That wasn’t me, it was my mom!”

You freeze. Now _that’s_ unfortunate. You throw your head back and yell at the top of your lungs, “AH FRICK!” Except you don’t say “frick”.

That earns you a ban.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We do not hold accountability for any visual trauma caused by this work of fiction :)


	2. The Wedding (No, Not the One You’re Thinking Of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So huh, welcome back for the second chapter of… whatever this is.

Candles flickering around a dimly lit room. Skilled oil brushstrokes on poplar panel. Renaissance por—okay no, you just made that up. You call yourself the “artsy” type even though you haven’t drawn on paper since the last time you went to that one pizza place three years ago and you’ve never been to an art class in your life. But the Brody Lisa is still a sight to behold. You’re lucky to have it in your basement, all for your—

“Hey champ!” you hear a deep voice boom from above you as someone stomps in through the main entrance. “ _Crap_ ,” you think to yourself, “back from work already?”

You’ve gotta get out of here, pronto. You throw a cover over the painting and blow out the candles till your brain’s on fire but, just as you thought, you will never be fast enough. Brody _is_ speed. Bro has already climbed down the stairs and is now staring at you with that charming dead gaze of bro’s. You both stare at each other in silence for the next 294 minutes until one of you blinks.

You pretend it’s all a joke in a last attempt to save your skin. “Haha, I won the blinking contest! I get to roleplay as Blinky next time!”

“Champ? What… what is this?”

The secret you’ve been trying to hide for so long has finally been revealed, and all because of one simple mistake from your part. Hundreds of Brody pictures line every single inch of your shrine. Now Brody will never want to hang out with you again, or call you “champ”. Bro might even tell your worst enemy, Lackey.

Bro takes a step forward, toward the covered Brody Lisa. You cringe inwardly till your face caves in as bro slowly, so very slowly, takes off the drape and unveils the multi-million lockpick stolen artwork. That’s it, you’re done for. Brody remains speechless for even longer than it takes you to shower on weekends.

Right when you’re about to crumble into a raisin and die you hear a soft, breathed-out, “It’s beautiful.”

“W—What?”

“Bro! I love how you’ve decorated the place. This Brody Lisa replica, in particular, is very well done.”

“Hum… tha—that’s not a replica… I, huh, ‘borrowed’ it from the museum, you see—”

“I know what I’m talking about. This one’s a replica, because the real Brody Lisa… is in my bro cave.”

You can’t help but gasp. Brody also gasps for shock value, which is honestly much more effective than when they killed Black Widow in Avengers: Endgame. This means… you can finally share your shrine with someone else! With the most important person in your life, at that! Who also happens to be the subject surrounding said shrine! Oof.

“Sooooooooooo we’re good?” you ask.

“Of course we are! If anything, this makes me love you even more!”

You double-gasp, which makes you choke on air momentarily. You’ve never heard Brody use the “L” word about you before. This day has quite possibly turned into the very best in your entire sad, pathetic life.

Before you can say anything in response you hear light footsteps going _tip-tap_ down the stairs which reminds you of when your cat believes it’s a ninja and nyooms around the house at 3 a.m. Except this isn’t a cat, it’s a scalie.

“Well hello there.”

“Hear ye, hear ye, I present you with a message sent from the City Fera,” they say, bowing and then throwing a neat envelope in Brody’s flat bulldog face. The lizard then scurries away, never to be seen again, and months later you’re almost certain that poor soul’s been fed to the blood tree.

“What’s it say?” you ask Broby.

“We’ve been invited to andrukino’s wedding!”

“Cool. When are we leaving, bronie?”

“Oh my Bod, please don’t call me that.”

“Huh… alright then broney?”

“… Let’s just stick to the brosual.”

…

You really thought the wedding would take place somewhere nice, but clearly you were wrong, like you always are. The Blood Tundra is, let’s say, NOT ideal for these kinds of events. But still, Andrulian and Kino must have some inch of taste because they chose the local Brody temple and your boi Brody couldn’t be happier about it.

At first you didn’t even recognise it as a temple. The entire room’s plunged in darkness, with people waving glow sticks around and music that absolutely _slaps_ playing in the background. If it weren’t for the Karens you’d think this was a rave.

“Is this really a good idea? Because seven months ago at Fera Fashions I wasted all my money on crafting like a million ugly lace anklets and Andrulian still wouldn’t give me a free eureka item for my troubles so I asked my sister for a loan and I used her likes to gamble for more but naturally Kino stole them and little did I know those likes my sister lent me were meant to pay her rent so now she’s homeless and—”

“Yeah, I feel you,” says Brody. “One time Kino called me a name, but it doesn’t matter! We can still have fun! Ciao.”

At that Brody runs away to sink into a group of dorito-shaped one-arm–push-upping kobolds. You, however, not-so-reluctantly attack the buffet. Sadly there isn’t any of the good kush, like rush locusts and blooderflies, but there are arrays of gum, and chips, and several kinds of dips. Also mountains upon mountains of Broreos and, huh… hot dogs. You notice no kitsunes have been invited to the party.

Suddenly the front doors explode, and despite knowing damn well what’s about to happen you don’t have time to avoid the pure agony destined to shit on your day. Splints of wood of door get in everybody’s face. Your poor eyeballs. Why must they suffer like so.

Through the haze you search for who could have done such a thing, and it’s not exactly the pirate you were expecting. Instead it’s Savvy Jack, and for some reason that pisses you off even more. He said you’d get a discount on the Funko Pops he sold you in a dark alleyway last week but instead he gave you a discount on your vision. What a scam.

Being as absent-minded as you are, you are quickly distracted by a thing crawling on the floor. Through blurry eyes you spot the most delicious snack of all: a crystalback beetle. THAT might make your day better. It makes you realize Mugmyre Marsh really does keep all the tasty treats to itself, huh. You throw yourself at the ?insect? until, to your horror, you are whacked on the head by an angry Julian wielding an overgrown uncooked spaghetti noodle that in reality feels more like 100 lb linen cardstock. Julian must have arms of steel. Or rather… tentacles of steel?

“Oh, come on! You can’t keep every animal you see as a pet!” you yell in frustration. You used to like Julian until he started denying you free snacks. Now you have to pay Daryn for expensive gourmet pizza four times a day, seven days a week. It’s probably all a scheme to steal your cherry blossom blades which you use as currency because you farmed literally hundreds of them when they were still available. You goddamn farmer.

The ceremony is about to start, so you sit down on the floor. There are rows of perfectly fine empty plastic chairs made to be sat on, but why would you sit on them??? You have standards. Brody materializes next to you, and to your dismay bro’s munching on a beetle crystal as if bro doesn’t have a metaphorical shotgun aimed at bro’s head. Like a noble selfless superhero you snatch the crystal directly out of bro’s mouth and pop it into yours. It tastes like grape juice, but solid.

“Welcome back everyone. We are gathered here to celebrate the wedding of…”

You feel slightly unsettled by half of the attendance being comprised of venus shrews. Veinous shrews. Venom shrews. Vegan shrews. What are they called again? There are also a ton of birds at the front of the crowd, and just like that you assume they’re Andrulian’s family. His parents are even pickens which brings you back to memories of the still unreleased picken nuggets.

Oh, picken nuggets. If only… woAH you’ve slept through most of the speech already! You can’t tell how much time has passed but luckily not even Brody has noticed you’ve been asleep for Brody knows how long. By now even her greatness the blood tree is holding a tissue to her eyes. The marriage officiant must be mighty skilled at words.

You look up to see who it is. It’s… Luka? Oh no. Oh broz why did you look. Andrulian, Kino, and Luka all wearing fine-tailored tuxedos and standing next to each other… damn. It’s starting to get hot in here for a suitsexual like you.

You lean to the right where Brody’s sitting next to you. “I’m thirsty,” you say for literally no reason and hope bro takes it as of the hydration kind.

“Me too,” bro answers against all expectations. One quick glance reveals mounds of drool running down bro’s chin. Frankly, it’s disgusting. Brody could become a Broadway performer at this point. Brodyway…

Why is everyone on that stage so beautiful. Luka and their shmexy legs, Kino with their six arms… wait a second. Kino with their six arms? And also likely two legs? (you hope)

“Andrulian, you may now kiss the, huh, Kino. Yes,” you hear Luka struggle to say.

It hits you harder than it should’ve. All the memories from that period between January and February last year when every time you’d try to shower there was at least one spider in there to join you. How your arachnophobia got so much worse in the span of a few weeks. Well, turns out Kino is an arachnid. Run.

You don’t even wait to see the long-awaited andrukino smooch. Like a rocket ship on your way to Mars you launch out of your fictional seat and make a run for it up the aisle. Except it’s much too awkward at first because the floor is slippy and you run in place for a few seconds while everyone’s watching. It looks right out of one of those funny senri video compilations on Fer.alTube.

You don’t get very far before something gets in your way. Or rather _someone_. Christ on a cracker, it’s that fluffy nightmare child, Vann, and he’s red with anger.

“YOU AGAIN!” he _bellows_. It stuns you for a sec, how much this muppet has demonically powerful vocal cords. “YOU DARE CROSS PATHS WITH ME FOR A SECOND TIME.”

“I, huh, yes, ‘cause I was invited—”

“YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE. (you haven’t done anything, but ok) I SWEAR I WILL GRIND YOUR KNEECAPS INTO POWDER AND SNORT THEM FOR RECREATIONAL PURPOSES AND THEN—”

“Oh my Brody, Vann.” You turn around to see Luka bring out their A+++ parenting skills in public. “You can’t just say that kind of stuff at a _wedding_ of all places. You’re grounded.”

“Nooooooooooooo”

“No Minecraft for a week.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”

You hear groans of pain coming from the audience. Luka is too cruel for this world. At least they don’t delete their kids’ singleplayer worlds out of the blue, like SOME people.

You seize your chance to escape and sneak away, believing you’re finally safe… until the rebellious teenager charges at you at full speed. On second thought, he might be more rebellious than initially believed. You see your life flash before your eyes as the red bolt of floof is about to crash into you and send your skinny-ass noodle-legged body flying. All hope is lost… but then a near-impossible miracle drops from the sky to rescue you from the jaws of death.

“Pants?”

“PANTS!!!”

Yes. It’s true. Pants quite literally descends from the Brodyian heavens, sauntering vaguely downwards and wielding what seems to be a tiny Baloney Slicer. Tears well in your eyes at the sight of your much-needed savior. This really is the best day _ever_.

You expect Pants to slice into that pissy hot pepper on legs, but fairly enough not even this story would allow that kind of child violence. Not even for a jerk like Van. Instead Pants boops him on the nose. Hurray.

Obviously that doesn’t erase the humiliation you feel hitting you like a thousand tentacled spaghetti-wielding picken breeders. You can’t stay. You were rude long before so it doesn’t matter. But also it kinda sucks because there’s nothing to do in the Blood Tundra, and now it’s even emptier than ever before, apart from that lizard messenger guy tied up behind a pile of nicely polished femurs.

You don’t even hunger for blooderflies anymore. Maybe you should eat snow instead, like the local furry children. Maybe you should swallow an unpolished femur and see what happens.

The tundra has always been a strange place, after all. Like that sentient pile of snow roaming around over there, for instance. Wait, that’s not snow… it’s Luka! It’s always Luka, which means you lost your white friend in the snow.

“Well, hello there. If you don’t mind, I’d like to—”

“NO. I mean, Luka, baby, could you please let me skip the cutscene?”

“s̷͍͗̂k̸̻͝i̷̠͗̑p̶̲͖̅p̵͍̽̔é̴̼ͅd̴̰̆̚ ̷̠͔̊î̸͓n̴͎͆t̴̬̎r̸̼̽ō̶͓̋.̴̫͇͂̈́ Come with me, I know a spot.”

“Ha, you’re not taking me to any secondary location, old hag.”

“I’m not old, I’m the same age as… other people… the same age as me. Anyway do you really want to talk in front of that amphibian?”

You look down at the lizard who’s still struggling on the ground. It becomes apparent Luka is the one who put them in such a situation, blood sacrifices and probable necromancy and all. You hope that’s not what Luka means by “a spot” because at the moment you’re not ready to decline their invitation… for… reasons.

“Haha, of course not, Luka. Where do you want us to go?”

Thankfully you do not end up filleted or kebabed in any way, but you do end up at the heart of the tundra where a giant skull chilling out in the middle of a blood lake stares at you in the most judgemental way possible for an inanimate skeleton. At least you hope it remains inanimate, that is.

You can only think about one thing. “I’m going to die here, aren’t I?”

But all Luka does is plop down in the snow like it’s not hecking freezing and pull out… a lunchbox? Wh-Where did that come from? They open it to reveal lil’ juice boxes and rows of school-lunch-esque sandwiches.

“Would you like some?” they ask.

Oh my god, you’re gonna cry. Sandwiches are YOUR LIFE. “YES. PLEASE. I HAVEN’T EATEN ANYTHING ALL DAY.” Wow, you’ve never said anything so polite. Luka may bring out yummy sandwiches, but they also bring out new things in you…

“Hey hum, Luka, y’know I’m, well, haha, would you like to go on a date with me?” And now you’ve screwed it up. That’s gross.

“If you want that’s what you can call this.”

Okay, nevermind. Bring out the champagne. Wait, no, you left it at the wedding. WAIT. You also left Broby at the wedding. Oh well, you’ve bought yourself a new bae now.

“Would you like some juice?” Luka asks because they’re a “nice”, considerate person, unlike you who’s allergic to doing anything near civil.

“No I only drink water. But Lula, if we start going out together, will I have to parent your children too?”

“Whoever you’re thinking of, I can assure you they are not my children.”

“Yes they are. ‘Cause I definitely do not want to have to deal with Volkswagen.”

Luka releases a long, pent-up sigh. Oh boy.

“Pardon him. You see, his mother was born with three kneecaps; the source of his infatuation with them. Not only does he now hold an insatiable thirst for all sorts of kneecaps, but his own are near indestructible and I fear they may one day bring doom to the tundra.”

“And so what, Phemer’s mom was born with three femurs?”

“Yeah. Sure. Of course. And Ende’s mother had endometriosis. This isn’t a joke. Please quit it with the unnecessary questions. No, you don’t get to know how old I am. No, you are not allowed to know how many people I’ve killed with my bare hands, drained of all their blood, and offered to the tree. Because the answer is none.”

“That sounds oddly specific, though. Anyway, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, and I promise this will be the last question…”

“Hgh, shoot.”

“Why are you white?”

“Oh my god, you can’t just ask people why they’re white.”

You and Luka both turn around simultaneously in the direction of this third voice. Ah, fiddlesticks, you feel your cheek fur grow red. Brody is sick, Brody is swole, and most importantly, Brody has found out what you’re up to.

“Woah, champ! You’re socializing, that’s great!”

“Yeeeaaah, yay me…” you glance at the broadsword, or rather abnormally large kitchen knife still slung behind Luka’s back. It looks particularly sharp today, which makes you wonder why…

“And I know the best way to learn new things about people!” Brody continues. “By breaking into their basements!”

“Wait, no—” But alas Luka is too slow for Brody’s power. The three of you poof in Luka’s basement, and what you see reminds you all too well of that Sims save you’ve been playing since December 27th 2016. You find yourself in a bright hallway, the lights so intense they burn your retinas like that one time you activated Discord light mode for a grand total of 12 seconds just to see what it was like (note: you didn’t see anything, you were blind). You should go see an eye doctor soon. Beyond this narrow hallway are cramped cells each containing a person and a room somehow more luxurious than an American college dorm room. Okay, it’s not that surprising, to be honest. And, cherry on top, each of these people is at an easel, painting… portraits of Brody?

Oh my lord. All this time you were decorating your shrine with merchandise produced by the one and only Luka. The universe has spoken. You two were meant to be.

“Wow, that looks sick bro!” compliments Brody. You wonder if Brody is just programmed to be this optimistic, and if bro’d say the same about the totalitarian regime in George Orwell’s 1984. Actually that’s just how the government is today.

Luka doesn’t seem very happy about Brody’s trick. “So you’ve uncovered one of my secrets. Why don’t you each share a secret so we can be even?” they propose like a typical kindergarten child.

“I’VE NEVER CLEANED INSIDE MY EARS, EVER,” screams Brody. “But what I REALLY want to know is how champ dodged that ban!”

 _Oh no_.

“You did what?” Luka seems mostly concerned, but also a little impressed. You feel proud of yourself, like you do every day, and it prompts you to speak.

“There’s nothing a little bribing using some Brody pics can’t fix.”

Old-timey police car sirens begin to ring in your ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed a not-so-subtle reference to another Fer.al fic on here… that’s right, I’m making you go read every other work in the tag. Go show your appreciation for all these wonderful writers. I dare u


	3. How It’s Done in the Blood Tundra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT’S SANDWICH TIME AGAIN

“That’s my cue. So long, suckas!”

Luka then proceeds to hop inside a car that was apparently just lying there this entire time. They drive away dramatically like in the movies, tires squealing against hard concrete. The wheels leave a thick cloud of earth and grit in their tracks, blocking your view of Luka.

“No, Luka, no!” you scream, but it only results in dirt blowing into your mouth and choking you half to death. It tastes like dirt.

Soon the air clears and you’re left alone with Brody and the prisoners with jobs who apparently haven’t taken notice of your presence yet. They must be stuck very deep in their painting trance… or maybe free will is just turned off. Meanwhile Brody seems to be panicking. How uncharacteristic.

“Oh bro, they’re coming for me,” bro manages to say through quick and shallow breaths. For a second you had forgotten about the whole deal with the Feral police on your tails. Shit.

“Dude, why are YOU the one freaking out? You’re more innocent than my pet cactus! Although, to be fair, it has committed several felonies till now.”

“It’s because I’ve never cleaned the inside of my ears, isn’t it? Why did I have to yell that out loud like those weird sparks at City Fera whenever a new update comes out. Oh jeez why am I so stupid. I don’t deserve the title of bro anymore. I should—”

“Woah there bro, calm down, we can figure this out—”

“Do not call me that. I… I MUST BANISH MYSELF FROM THIS PLACE AND ATONE FOR MY SINS!” Brody screeches louder than bro’s ever done in bro’s life as if that’s going to stop the police from chasing the both of you. At that, Brody levitates through the wall at the speed of light before you can say anything in response. You are now truly alone. You might (yes, might) get arrested, Luka is gone, and now even Broby has given you up despite countless hours spent listening to Rick Astley together.

Oh well, you no longer have a choice. You spontaneously decide to vandalize Luka’s basement for ditching you in a moment of crisis. Your revenge on Brody will have to wait though, you don’t want to get caught by the police in the middle of committing yet another crime, do you? Unless you like that sort of thing.

Escaping the law isn’t that hard, to be honest. You learned that from being gay and doing crime. All you have to do is teleport to your sanctuary and lock the thing (thank you weeweeworks). Peace of cake.

Not even five seconds pass before you hear an obnoxious ringtone and feel the buzzing of a cellphone. Oh wait, it’s your cellphone. Well, you hope so, since it is in your pocket, after all. It’s probably your mom wanting to ask you where you are again. Damn it mom, I’m a strong, independent adult! I don’t even live in your house anymore.

You reach into your pocket and pick up after triple-sighing because you are just that dramatic. There’s no one else around, so it doesn’t matter, anyway. Or maybe it does, because unfortunately there is no audience to witness your exhibition of annoyance. Sheesh you should turn off your brain before you morph into a Karen.

Shockingly enough the number hangs up before you get to say anything. Strange… but your phone buzzes again as a notification pops up. A wild stranger is attempting to text you!

Unknown number: Well hello there

Your mind screams “STRANGER DANGER” but can you really resist the temptation? What if it’s some poor everyday peasant who’s gotten the wrong number by accident? Oh goody, you can’t help messing with ‘em, you little shit.

You: heya

Unknown number: is this [REDACTED]?

… Okay so they know your real name… hum… wow now you’re confused as to if you should keep trolling this person because then that would be weird, probably… also this neanderthal has been typing for a really long time by now. Like, there’s a new lore quest kind of long time. But then— _ping_!

Unknown number: If you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Luka, the leader of our happy flock. I’m sure you’re just passing through, like the rest of us are… but if you have time to linger a little longer…

Thank god. Or maybe not.

You: how do u know how to use a phone? wait how do u have one? lol

Luka: wow who dou take me for im not an ignorant i bought it from the apple store. jerk. anyways can u look after the kids while im in hiding thanks

You: o so the great and mighty supreme leader luka is asking me to babysit the children who weren’t theirs like 5 mins ago cool cool cool. as if im not also in hiding???

_You have been blocked by this number._

Unbelievable.

Sure, you could sulk for the rest of the day, but where’s the fun in maintaining your weekly plans? You now have a job to do. Even in times like these you cannot bring yourself to stray away from your morals. Haha jk you don’t have any morals. Why are you doing this.

You pop up back at the village and search for Luka’s “children”. You hate children. What are their names again—Femur, End, Bastard, and the two clones who may or may not creep the living heck out of you more than anything else in this cursed land. You long for the simpler times you miss O so badly—when you could stare at Brody’s breathtakingly beautiful face for hours on end, like this morning for example—and you haven’t even found the kidbolds yet.

Your patience is seriously wearing off at this point. The village is as empty as a pack of Sour Patch Kids. There isn’t an inch of life in the dark alley you’re currently moping in, apart from the local ghost whispering ominous thoughts into your ear. Why do these things keep happening to you. Luka hasn’t only sent you on a babysitting mission, but on a whole-ass manhunt, apparently. Your relationship isn’t exactly off to a great start.

Screw it, you can’t take it anymore.

“KIDS!!!”

You empty your lungs out on this single word, each letter dragging out for longer and longer until you wheeze like one of those popular gaming youtubers or whoever, you don’t really know who but apparently they’re popular among the younger generation these days. Jeez you’ve never felt this old. Might as well retire from this living hell.

Suddenly you notice a faint spot in the distance. Actually no, it’s multiple short fuzzy shapes running at you… wait. Oh no. 

You flip around and make a run for it. These past few days have been brutal with all these things chasing you, and for what? Guess you’re a trouble magnet… or a snack. A whole meal, at this point. Nice.

Except it’s not nice. You realize, to your horror, that there is no escape. It was all planned, from the beginning. You’ve been tricked, ambushed. Fool. Two small kobolds yeet theirselves at you and knock you off your feet—err, paws—and make you stumble over a snowdrift. The shapes you’d seen earlier and now recognize as Ende and Phemer slowly make their way in your direction, each of them holding the opposite ends of a jump rope. Oh god no. Please, why. The memories, the _feeling_ hits you like a tow truck. No—Not again!

“Have mercy!” you plead, but alas, to no avail.

Phemer stands at your right, and Ende on your left, facing the other way, and then… then they both start… _spinning around you, in a circle_. They run so fast, sending bits of snoo flying in your face, still while holding the rope. The thick thread twists around you at the same time, tightening as the seconds go by… it constricts your torso, weighs on your chest and digs into your heart… you choke helplessly as the kids giggle at the torment they’re putting you through. The chord feels like it’s boring into your arms—huh, forelegs—and squeezing your veins until they pop, or something like that. It’s so goddamn embarrassing. Last time you had someone, someone to help you out; to come to your rescue by lifting your feeble self from the depths of suffering, but now… now, with years piled up of being a jerk to everything that moves, you have no one…

After what seems like an eternity the blurry silhouettes that earlier sped by slow down until they come to a full stop. At least you think, that is. You would know if your head wasn’t spinning as if it’d just been bludgeoned by a myrefolk swinging a giant rock-hard spaghetti around…

“Please… make it stop…” and so by my author powers I make it stop because using this many ellipses in a single chapter is a crime in my book.

From the corner of your eye you spot a flash of red fur. It’s that mean child, Vann-dal, who you’re 97,3% sure has orchestrated this entire plot. You would spit some unholy words in his face if the child weren’t holding… a sword—wherever he got that—and pointing the blade straight at your favorite artery.

“Can’t run now, spark. What are you doing here, trespassing on our territory?” he asks with his squeaky baby voice. It’s meant to be threatening but it sounds silly. This whole situation is, and if you had a nickel for every time it’s happened in your life, you’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.

“You’re brighter than you look, fiend,” you hiss.

“And I’m guessing you aren’t,” the red terror dares answer, that sneaky little rascal, “because you ran away. Everyone knows there are no cops in the Blood Tundra. Heck, cops aren’t even real. They’re made-up, but you were stupid enough to fall into my meticulously planned trap. Not even Luka would know. That stinky old hag.”

“Shut your face. They sent me to play parent because you scared them away and now I have to do something I don’t want to. I hate it as much as you do!”

“That was the plan, duh! To lead you here so I can take my reVENGE!” He throws his head back and T-poses while Phemer stares at him rather questioningly.

“But, Vann, we haven’t planned anything else. You told us yourself that we’d probably never get this far.”

“True,” adds Ende.

“Oh.”

It’s an awkward five minutes, to say the least.

“I’m hungry,” finally says Vann, breaking the uneasy silence you had all agreed upon through uncomfortable, wordless eye contact.

“Me too.”

“Same.”

“Same here,” you add. Three heads turn toward you, shooketh, as if you stopped existing for a while there. You’ve never felt so unimportant. “It must be lunch time soon. Or something. I don’t think this place agrees with time lol. What do you guys eat anyway?”

“Usually stolen chairs but we eat dried veins whenever Luka gives us our weekly allowance. Although it’s more of a bi-weekly allowance since they forget like half the time. It sucks.”

“Ew. That’s nasty. We should go eat somewhere, like McDonald’s.” Oh my god why did you have to say that.

“MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS!”

Luka is going to kill you when they come back. For real, this time.

“Alright but we can’t go if I’m still trapped in this rope.”

“I don’t care,” says the dirty raccoon kid.

“Then no McDonald’s. And you’re in time-out. Get on top of the fridge.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” The kidbolds untangle you from the cocoon of death. You are free at last… you could even run away and never turn back, but for some reason you feel attached to these children already. Maybe you aren’t a heartless monster after all. Maybe someday you and Luka could buy a farm where you’d raise these kids together and eat all the bugs you want, adopt a pet vexrat, rent out a cabin on the weekends… and of course cheat with Brody on the side. You still appreciate bro, can’t forget that.

You break one of the windows of the nearest station wagon and jump in along with Phermer, Ende, and Vandal. There’s also Veri and Lumi, but face it, no one actually cares about them. You start the car and follow the GPS’ directions to quite possibly the shittiest McDonald’s you’ve ever laid your miserable eyes upon, and funnily enough it isn’t as far away as one would normally expect. I mean, it’s not like you can leave the Blood Tundra anyway, but it truly is a miracle that they’ve decided to open an outlet in such a bloody trash heap.

You aim for the drive-through. Yes, aim, because you don’t have a driver’s licence. And yes, the drive-thru, because it’s gross in there and you’re lazy. Also there’s a global pandemic going on, apparently.

“One black coffee please,” you say into the microphone as flatly as possible. The children’s cheers die down instantly and are instead replaced by wails of despair. Sometimes you think you’re funny, even when you’re not joking. Like right now.

But of course, this is a mistake. You feel something sharp against your throat and bloodthirsty eyes upon your precious kneecaps. It feels like a déjà-vu, and indeed it is as this has happened on multiple occasions in the past week. You must be incredibly lucky. Or not.

“Van, no sharp objects in the car.”

“Wanna bet your life on it?”

You sigh as if that’s appropriate at the moment. “Not really. What do you kids want?”

“Happy meal happy meal happymeal happymealhappymealhappym—”

“Of course you do. I’ll take 15 happy meals and a pack of 20 picken nuggets.”

You pull up to the window and wait for your order. It takes a while. Quite a while. Duh. The kidbolds complain but you ignore them like the good parent you are. After approximately four hours sixteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds an employee’s head pops through the opening in the wall and throws your food at you. Since you believe in treating others equally you throw your money at them, which is only 3 dollars because almost everything in the tundra is super cheap, except for proper heating, hospital bills, and life insurance.

As you do this you unconsciously look at the employee’s face. Believe it or not you are so unsociable that you haven’t directly looked at someone in the face in the past eight or so years. What you see makes you gasp even louder than when you experience one of the top ten anime betrayals.

“F—First Mate Picken?? You work here???”

“Is that lunch?” asks Phemer, and her uwu voice makes even what she just said seem cute.

“No.”

“By Captain Cluck’s beard, you again!” you hear the picken cluck angrily. “‘Tis I indeed. Ever since you stole the Beholder’s Eye from my grasp I’ve been struggling to make a coin… not only am I a prisoner to this infernal tundra, but to this hellish restaurant as well! And it’s all because of you, curs’ed Spark!”

“Can I eat it now?” Phemer presses.

“No.”

“Take these goods and BEGONE, THOT!” screeches the bird on udders. It’s fairly perturbing. You fear the children may be forever traumatized. What will Luka think of you now? You drive off as quickly as you can. Maybe _you_ are the traumatized one of the bunch, huh. Pussy.

“Children, we’ll find a nice spot where we can eat, that good?”

“Ok boomer.”

“Ok boomer.”

“Ok boomer.”

Where the frick did they learn that. “For real, y’all.”

“Y’all.”

“Y’all.”

“Y’all.”

Why must they feel the need to bring out ungodly amounts of rage in you. There’s no point arguing with them though, so you simply let hot air blow through your nose like when you see a funny meme on the internet. At some point you find a cute beach to camp on, fortunately. Unfortunately there’s blood and snow everywhere and like three random people but, heh, it’s not like you’re gonna find a better place.

You settle down with the kids so you can all enjoy your McDonald’s, together, as a family. It brings a tear to your eye. Could it be that, for once in your life, you care… about other people? Wait no, nevermind, it’s just the picken nuggets. They taste delicious, by the way. Think of when you eat food in a dream and it tastes so much better than anything else in your sorry, pitiful life.

It’s cruel but it’s true, you just throw the coffee away. Hell, you don’t even like coffee, and neither do the children, hopefully. When everyone is done sticking fries up their cakeholes (you didn’t have the heart to ask for apple slices instead—for the shits and giggles) you don’t clean up, because you’re a firm believer that the Blood Tundra could use a little global warming, haha. As a treat. Also because you forgot Brody isn’t here to clean up after you anymore. Get you a man like Brody.

The kidbolds vote (not really, democracy doesn’t exist on planet Feral) on going for a swim in the ocean. The blood ocean, that is, which is disgusting. Their fur will end up crusty and sticky and you’re not in the mood to lick it off when all is done. But hey, at least they’re having fun and aren’t trying to kill each other yet, or psychologically torturing you again. And—wait. What the fudge is that.

This night could be perfect. It would be, if only you hadn’t seen what you just saw. Could it be…? No… but it is. Looks like you’ve been duped not once, but twice in a single day, which is waaay past crossing your boundaries.

You race towards… towards whatever this is. Two shapes in the distance, sitting next to each other at the edge of the “water”. Two _kobolds_ , to be exact. As you get closer the image becomes clearer and the pieces of the puzzle click together in your mind. This is scandalous. A kobold with fur so strikingly white it pulverizes your sclera, and another, red as the ketchup your third cousin used to pour on pizza, currently wearing their signature blue headband. And, worst of all, both of them are… are… _holding hands_.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” you want to scream at the top of your lungs but to be honest they’ve gone through enough already. Two handsome furries flip around, wide-eyed and afraid like a couple of guilty dogs caught chewing on your favourite museum quality Brody portrait. Good for them, you think, they better be afraid. You’ve taken Vann’s sword with you, in case you’re having roasted ham for dinner.

“Oh, hi champ!” says Brody as if you’re not staring at bro with daggers in your eyes. Luka, on the other hand, is trembling like a koi avatar at the wrong cult meeting, which is an odd sight for the famed village leader.

“W—Well, h—hello there. If you—” they try to say, _as always_.

“Cut the crap.”

“This isn’t what it looks like—”

“Oh, it’s EXACTLY what it looks like. You didn’t leave out of nowhere to escape the so-called ‘police’, did you? And you, off ‘atoning for your sins’. What bullcrap. I bet the babysitting thing was just a distraction, too.”

“… Well, to be fair, everyone knows there’s no law enforcement in the Blood Tundra.”

“Psh, doesn’t matter. I feel betrayed. How dare you both cheat on me, and even worse, with each other?”

“Wait, w—what do you mean by ‘both cheating on you’?”

Shit. You forgot to tell Luka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you didn’t see that coming ;)
> 
> And about the rope incident… that has obviously never happened to me irl. Nope nope. Just remember this kids: when your mom warns you not to stroll in sketchy alleys by yourself, it might not be for the reasons you’d think.


	4. Waterboarding, Communism, and Other Fun Summer Activities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first—thank you all so much for 100 hits! It means a lot to me that there are actual people out there who read Kobold Sandwich, and some who even enjoy it somehow? I am eternally grateful to everyone who has ever clicked on this story. 
> 
> Also you may have noticed that it’s been… a while since the last update. Never fear, for Kobold Sandwich isn’t ending any time soon! I meant to post this update all the way back in September, hence the summer theme. The thing is, I know this kind of fic is supposed to take zero brainpower to write, but I struggled a lot with this chapter. It went through so much editing, and I still don’t think it’s good enough, but I’m posting it anyway because it’s been much too long. Good news is, chapter five is already in the works, and it may be the most chaotic one yet 👀

You also forgot to tell Brody, now that you think about it, but it doesn’t really matter. Broby is about as self-aware as a goldfish. And by goldfish I mean the crackers. Like, for real, bro’s still staring at you lovingly. You assume.

You sigh weakly. “I guess the beans would have to be spilled eventually. I’m dating both of you. At the same time.”

“But that’s cheating,” Luka says like a champ.

“Wow. Want a medal? You’re also cheating! This isn’t fair. Why can’t we all just get over it and act like this never happened? We can be… we can be a polyamorous triad from now on. Great idea.”

“At least Luka and I were trying to conceal our brolationship,” starts Brody, “while you’re off freely kissing other bros on the lips—some we’ve never even met. We all know what you’re up to in the early hours of the morning, champ.”

“Hum, what is Brody talking about?” asks Luka. Hoe hoe hoe, you are in such deep shit.

“Haha, so, you see, I, huh, may or may not have hung out. With people. Like Vesta. And Icarus. Also a hat. Maybe Konrad. Wolfe—”

“WOLFE?? IN _MY_ VILLAGE???”

“My god, Luka, it was one time—”

To y’alls utter dismay, Luka rises to their full height, and it makes you grasp just how tall they are. Really, really tall, and pretty, but also hecking terrifying. They reach behind their back and pull out the baloney slicer, its thin blade shimmering as it reflects rays of blood-red sunlight onto the dusk-tainted snow. This is it. It’s the end for you. Deep down you always knew you’d kick the bucket chopped up into thin ham slices.

“Luka! What are you doing?”

The three of you peep down to where this tiny voice just came from. It’s Vann. You don’t know what else you expected.

“Vann, the adults are talking. Why don’t you go play with the others?”

“I am. I told them to race here and that the loser would have to clip their nails using leftover teeth for an entire year! No way am I coming last.”

Luka looks like they’re about to lose their marbles.

“So we’re getting more parents?” the smol cat bear chinchilla dog child continues. You start sweating profusely. He heard everything, including your deepest, darkest secret.

Through moist eyes you see Luka brandish their swor—large kitchen knife in your direction. “You should know that I am a force to be reckoned with. Brody knows that. As for _you_ … I trusted you… and you bed bath & betrayed me. Prepare to meet your doom.” Ah, now you see where Vann gets his dramatic personality from.

“Hey, hey, hey, perhaps we shouldn’t shank each other in front of the children.”

“Champ’s right,” Brody says, facing you. “Maybe you should go take a break somewhere while we figure this out, if that doesn’t bother Luka.”

Okay wow so now your ultimate bae is proposing to abandon you in this trying time. Although, to be fair, bro’s plan makes perfect sense, unlike the rest of this absolute garbage pile of a fanfic lolololol

“So, deal?”

“Wait—I have a question for Vann,” you say. “What happened to Bluddy?”

“…”

“I ate it.”

…

Your days are spent procrastinating on homework, playing Among We with strangers, and going doorbell ditching with Hat while roasting in the sun of one of Lakeroot Valley’s many barbecues. Sorry, typo. _Beaches_. Sadly you did not know beforehand that you apparently have to pay a fee in order to stay on said beaches, so now you have no money and you are stuck wondering how the frick is Hans so damn rich. Screw capitalism.

Also you are extremely bored, but that tends to happen when you spend a whole week free of committing v i o l e n c e . Gosh you can’t keep lazing around any longer or else you’ll turn into a scrawny overcooked piece of steak, which, on second thought, might be tasty. But still you don’t want to go through all that because you’re already tasty enough by your own standards. 

To be honest, you _could_ go for a swim to cool down, but last time you did that you found one of Edge’s soggy Brody body pillows in the water, which is the greatest abomination you’ve ever seen next to people who squirt ketchup ON their fries.

You decide that your best course of action would be to start by taking a walk despite the fact you are at a rice grain’s length from fainting. And so you do, and when you wake up you see an obnoxious middle-aged white woman-shaped person looming over your inert carcass. Ah shit, it’s Karen.

“Hum, _excuse_ me? Is no one here considerate enough to not lie down face flat in the sand and block me on my way to the essential oils stand or is that too much to ask?”

“Chill out, lady. Just go around or step over me, I don’t care. I’m dead.”

“That’s filthy, looks like I need to speak to the manager. Scandalous how this resort offers ZERO body removal services. Smh. Bla blah blah blablabala”

Thankfully she leaves the scene still while complaining to herself but without pestering you further as she may stupidly believe you actually are dead, something that will happen soon enough if you do nothing. You cry a little and lick your tears for hydration, which is about as effective as governments banning single use plastics. Then you lick the sand in hopes of it containing at least one or 2 molecules of good ol’ dihydrogen monoxide, but it only results in scraping your tongue. Now you know why sandpaper is named after sand, and what it tastes like.

You roll around in desperation as your internal organs shut down one by one. Although, you are used to that feeling since you sleep like three hours a night. Maximum. If only Brody were here, or even Luka… oh, why did you have to be so foolish.

You close your eyes and think hard, a feat you have yet to accomplish. Come on, you can’t always depend on others to flourish. For once, you have to spread your wings and fly on your own. And so, by your own near-nonexistent powers of self-motivation, you force your meer self to stand and crawl to the closest puddle. The water is brown and murky and all around disgusting, but you remind yourself that puddle water is the drink of warriors and reluctantly lap at the stuff until you gag. You really are filthy, like Karen said.

So, now what.

In the distance you spot a tall deer man who you identify as stoner Andrulian. You don’t even ask yourself what he’s doing here instead of working as all good capitalists should be because for some reason the sheer sight of him makes you shake with raw anger. Jeez, what _was_ in that suspicious puddle water?

You stomp towards the living towel rack. As you do you step over a picken cult. And a communism cult. And a Pikachu cult. There really is only one downside to Fer dot al, isn’t there. Finally, you stop dead in front of Andrulain, growling and slobbering almost as much as that kid Vann after he eats too much catnip.

“YOU! YOU RUINED MY LIFE!”

The enormous deer seems shocked by this. “What—What do you…? Hey, aren’t you the one who wrecked my wedding?”

“OHH, I’m no wedding wrecker as much as you are a life ruiner! You and your villainous bird game! For shame! FOR SHAME!”

“Oh, so you’re one of those people. Listen, I’m not forcing anyone to play dizzywing? Can’t you just take a walk or something?”

“My lovely walk along the beach has made me crave violence. I need to wear glasses now, can you imagine? GLASSES!”

“And I wear a mask 24/7. I can’t see shit either, man.”

You’re about to give the purple giraffe a beating until a mushroom emerges from behind the goatman’s back. Its Kino! And they’re holding a gun straight at your gross porous face. Wait, no, one, two, three, four… six guns. Thank the queens you have enough fingers to count them. Kino has that same look on their face as they always have, the one that makes you wonder whether they want to murder someone or read the entire encyclopedia in one sitting while eating frozen yogurt on a stick, but right now their intentions seem clear enough.

“Get stickbugged,” they say, menacingly.

“I can’t say I enjoy being ordered around while my very essence is in fragile hands.”

“Bug off or I’ll blow your brains out, mortal.”

“You know, I’ve always wanted to try out waterboarding.”

_Click_

“Hahaha very well I’ll carry on my merry way, have a good honeymoon you two.” You flip off Andriluan for good measure and sprint in the direction you came from, somehow stubbing your toe twelve times in a row. Owie. You also catch a glimpse of Kino dropping all of their guns to the ground and taking out a hunting rifle from underneath their robe. They then shoot at the surface of the water, blowing up the local fishies. Ah, yes, the correct way to fish. Because of this you remember how immensely thirsty you are, which IS indeed something one can forget.

You carefully approach the river’s edge and dunk your entire face in, enjoying the _moist_ environment that surrounds you. As unbelievable as it may seem you are so, so incredibly water hungry that you have reached the point where it is physically possible for you to absorb water through your skin. Now you surely are the sole god of hydration, unlike Poseidon who is also the god of horses for some reason. What were those ancient Greeks thinking.

“MmmMMMm delicious water,” you moan underwater since no one can possibly hear you, right?

“Hey.”

Your eyes flip open and your heart skips a beat, but you end up marveling at the creature blessing thee. Pepperidge Farm’s cinderfish.

The snack that smiles back.

You violently realize you’re also quite hungry, and the cinderfish does seem… savory. Wait no what are you thinking. Fish taste terrible. Buuut you do believe in eating fish only when sick because you like the texture, smell, and concept of eating fish but not the taste, aaand your sense of taste is on vacation (too) at the moment.

Seems like the cinderfish has thoughts of its own, surprisingly enough for a specist such as yourself, and on top of that it’s looking at you funny. Oh shet. It grabs your face with its fish fingers and dunks your head in and out of the gross fish water, again and again and again while you struggle for air. Your brain feels like it’s gonna pop, which isn’t exactly an improvement from the whole Kino situation. Is this what waterboarding feels like?

Eventually you manage to slip out of the fishy bastard’s slippery grasp and run away crying. Oh my cod, this must be what, the fifth chase scene? Still more original than your average superhero blockbuster these days. You look back and see… the cinderfish naruto-running @ you… on land… and then a flamin’ hot Cheeto-lookin’ fella crashing into it. It’s…

“K—Konrad? (yes, really) You saved my life!”

He grabs the cinderfish in one hand and stuffs a whole ass carrot in its mouth. _Æügh_.

“No, I saved _our_ life, buddy. And I changed my name, by the way. It’s Comrade now. Thought it’d fit my look better, don’t you think, fellow comrade?”

“Huhhh, de—definitely…” you sputter out. You don’t like where this is going.

“You don’t sound so sure, comrade.”

“I—just, what?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard? How Arrowpeak and Ogasa have been at war for generations? The epic centuries-long battle between communism and capitalism? I think the superior faction is obvious.”

“… Are you telling me that’s what the nationwide Mean Girls situation is all about? How come no one has told me this yet.”

"Because it’s a secret. But—but—but you are an exception to this case, my friend! I was actually sent here to recruit those willing to become a part of the collective. Join us or I will stomp you to death with my hooves. We have free snacks. Anyway decide fast because we’re going over to Fjord's for lunch, wanna come? We're having sushi."

Oh god you've never had to make such a hard choice. On one hand you love sushi with your whole being, but on the other you despise communism. I mean, don't get me wrong, I also hate capitalism. But communism a little more.

"I'll get right back to you. Maybe in a day or two. And huh, sorry to decline your offer but I already have a packed lunch," you say while your stomach growls louder than the Yellowstone supervolcano that's scheduled to erupt either tomorrow or in a hundred thousand years, give or take a couple centuries.

"I don't see no lunch. That's hella sus."

"That’s… because I just accidentally made a sandwich!" And with that you pull out a ham sandwich from behind your back. Now where did that come from.

"I guess that makes sense. Until we meet each other again, and in a couple days’ time, I hope!”

“I hope not,” you hiss under your breath, hissingly. Let’s say you’re not exactly eager to join the Bolshevik hive mind any time soon.

You’re still dying of hunger so you head to Hallowmist Crossing where there is weed. And yummy snacks as well, you pray. You traverse many foggy paths in search for something, anything edible, or at least somewhat appetizing. Fera flies are too dusty. Lucid microbes, too chewy. Void beetles though… they may be called beetles, but to you they aren’t JUST beetles, if you know what I mean. Same as how coconut crabs aren’t just crabs, Kinos aren’t just gamblers, and crab squids aren’t just aquatic extraterrestrial life forms.

Your stomach weeps as you haul yourself back to the crossroads. You haven’t eaten anything all day… but then you identify a dark figure shaking in the distance, like a terrified leaf.

“Oh hey what brings you here?”

No response.

“Aleta?? Is that you?”

She cranes her neck around, her glowing white eyes reaching yours in the ocean of fog.

“Hi. Welcome to Lakeroot Valley.”

“You… aren’t supposed to—”

“Do you want to play rocks?”

Huh. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said: Do you want to play rocks?”

For once in your life you have no idea what an NPC is trying to imply, but you are 100% sure you do NOT want to find out. 

“Do you want to play rocks?”

Suddenly, in the span of more or less half a second you watch Aleta drop onto all fours, eat a rock, and crawl toward you at an inconceivable speed. What the actual, ever-loving HECK is going on. SAM, EXPLAIN.

An abrupt shriek makes you jump outa your socks as a colossal four-eyed fish swoops down out of nowhere. You realize the fish is just Jedediah, a.k.a. the local noob terrorizer, which is even more embarrassing than when you fart so loud it startles you. Meanwhile Aleta is acting full-on cockroach-possessed-by-a-french-demon and you’re on the verge of pissing yourself.

“Jedediah, Jedediah, can you please let down your wing?”

Thankfully big boi is a kind soul and lets you climb on their back free of charge. Together you fly to Ogasa and you ring the bus bell button once the bread store is in sight, where Jed drops you off. It reminds you of the eagle ray school bus slash science teacher slash failed singer from Finding Nemo.

You enter the bread store and say “Let’s get this bread.” because what else would you possibly say. The shelves are full of literally every kind of bread you’ve ever known and so much more. There’s sliced bread, loafed bread, peasant bread, suspiciously yellow school cafeteria bread spheres, Montreal bagels, vegan banana bread, boring whole wheat bread.

“Hon hon hon, baguette,” Miss Marguerite says in a botched French accent, taking a sourdough bread loaf off a shelf. You do the sensible thing to do and snag it out of her claws.

“Free food! I can make a sick sandwich with this!”

You stroll down the many shopping alleys, pushing a few pounds of breadsticks and mini croissants into your cart on your way to the waiting line, where you find Berndt, a shorty. “Can you stop me after I’ve had sixteen of each?” you ask him. He eyes you weirdly but doesn’t say anything. To be frank, he’s been salty ever since he learned about you enticing Hat into committing tax fraud with you.

Not long after it is your turn to pay, but you have no money. What a surprise.

“Can I pay with dyes?” you ask, showing the 82627 dyes you’ve collected from your daily quests. The cashier shakes their head and it is at that moment that you know what must be done. Run.

“Stop! In the name of loaf!”

Next stop: the cheese store right next door. Ooo it rhymes. But before you can do anything your pocket vibrates on its own. Oh wait, that’s a phone, right. The phone that is yours, by the way. Yep. You check your messages and gasp softly. It is time.

You tp to the Harbor, where you are welcomed by a crushing kobold hug that snaps your breadsticks in half. Ah shucks, now they won’t taste the same. Oh well, you can’t bring yourself to blame Brody, bro’s too good for this world.

“Welcome back, champ!” bro tells you, your chin resting on bro’s shoulder. You see Luka standing behind bro, and for the first time ever, they’re… smiling? Or maybe that is their neutral expression and you just imagined that slight 0,29 percent upward curve.

“Well, hello there. If you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Luka, the leader of our happy flock. I’m sure you’re just passing through, like all of us are… but if you have time to linger a little longer…”

“Glad to see you too,” you breathe out. After a while the three of you sit side by side in a pile of snow, or at least the white stuff you are only half-certain is snow, and watch the sun as it sets peacefully over the horizon. While you munch on your breadstix, of course. Maybe your little break wasn’t that bad after all. Because, for now, you couldn’t be happier.

With a full heart, your gaze travels across the land and rests on Luka’s face, their beautiful spine-chilling dead eyes mirroring the surface of the blood lake. As far as you know, they haven’t left this place in… forever, and no one can deny the sense of yearning in their expression. If only they weren’t bound to the tundra, maybe that, someday, you could live the perfect life together…

An idea sparks in your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beeb


End file.
